


withered

by mountaindews



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, slight gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 23:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7457344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mountaindews/pseuds/mountaindews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love, love. So sickening that he can't bear it. So addicting that he can't do without it. So intoxicating that it's killing him from the inside, and he still thinks he can do something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	withered

**Author's Note:**

> this barely makes sense

Someone said it's excruciatingly beautiful, the feeling of something growing inside you. That you can feel every single flower pressing inside you, the petals softly filling your lungs, the thorns biting and goring the raw flesh of your insides. There's blood on the white asphodelus he coughs up, leaving his aching lips, his burning throat stained in crimson; the soft and small blossoms of black mulberry make him struggle to breathe.  
It's a disease, it's killing him. There's hardly anything poetic in the lilies leaving his mouth tinged in a deep and flaming red. It's painful, extremely so, but never as much as knowing why the thin red petals of the spider lilies stick to his tongue like parasites.  
Izumi wonders how nature knows his love is unrequited. Is it something in his brain? Some chemical reaction that makes the gene for the flower activate all of a sudden? How can the flowers grow without light, anyways?  
He coughs once, and again, petals softly landing on his fingers, yellow helenium and purple hyacinth, sticking to them like they've always been part of his body. He doesn't deny that it's scary. He doesn't deny that he'd pry his chest open  
( he'd let him pry his chest open with his small, warm hands )  
and rip all the flowers out of his body, yank them from his insides, one by one  
( let him see how much he yearns for him, how much he loves him, how much pain he's silently gone through for years; how many flowers have grown inside his chest, creeping through his skin and veins like poisonous ivy )  
isn't it somehow grossly poetic, the image of a body filled with flowers?  
No matter how filthy he could ever be, no matter how much his precious Yuu-kun resents him, the flowers still bite everything inside him, showing how much he cares, how deep his affection is.  
Does that girl love him like he does? In their brief hand holdings, between their small kisses, does she realize how lucky she is? How much he'd give up to be in her place?  
He coughs again. His mouth burns, acid with bile, his lips more and more red with each cough.  
Love, love, and affection. His desperate clinging to life, to something that's not quite there, nowhere to be found. Love, love, and death. He hides the flowers under the bed and throws them away once they're withered.  
Love, love, and echoes. Warm lips on his. It's been so long that he barely remembers how his mouth felt like. The coughing is more intense every time he recalls it, petals and leafs falling on the floor, on his hands, staining his clothes with blood.  
Love, love. So sickening that he can't bear it. So addicting that he can't do without it. So intoxicating that it's killing him from the inside, and he still believes he can do something about it.  
He won't win Yuu-kun with cheap tricks. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter.  
Burning lips, acid throat, flowers filling his mouth once again and giving off a sweet scent like rotten flesh as they tumble down his tongue ungracefully.  
It's more desperate than anything, it's too late to try and forget it. He doesn't want to forget it. He doesn't want to be forgotten, either.

Love, love, love. Because he's not going to lose something that once was his. Because he's not going to lose him again. No matter how painful the thorns in his lungs are.

**Author's Note:**

> hit my twitter and scream at me: @natsumaos


End file.
